>>697134
>Ask her why she’s been so quiet lately. She always mentioned wanting to go to space, after all.

>>697159

Second this.

Also make sure she has a teddy bear, that I have my 8-shooter, that theres neither psychic nor doctor onboard and that nobody named Mishka is going to explain why the toast always lands butter-side down to me using torture.

>>697134
yeah ask her

german attendant here, best time to play these for me!

>>697134
>>697159
I thought you would be more excited about getting all lubed up in space grease?

>>697134
>Ask her why she’s been so quiet lately. She always mentioned wanting to go to space, after all.

File: Cynthia2.jpg (63 KB, 620x428)

63 KB JPG

“Something wrong?” You look at her as the two of you begin walking through the crowds of people lining the docks. “You haven’t talked much since we arrived.” You pass the first couple of docks, noticing a lot of former naval vessels berthed. It made sense, what with the Navy downsizing as much as it has recently. Cynthia still hasn’t answered you, and you look back to her to see that she’s trying to come up with something to say.

“Well… I guess it’s just that you’ve changed so much since you left for the Navy. I don’t really know what to talk about around you anymore.” She looks toward the ship in Dock 9, a light cruiser that had been converted into a medical aid ship. “I suppose I’m a little anxious about space too. I mean, talking about it is one thing, but actually going is another. Still, I’d rather go to space than spend the rest of my days fixing Land Hulks in Fargo.” She looks away and continues. “And if there’s anyone I’d be willing to go into space with, it’d be you.” She goes silent again, but you can tell she’s looking at starships now. “So what kind of ship did you get, anyway?”

>”The ad didn’t say. All I know is that it’s a class 2.” (tell the truth)
>”A brand new Battlecruiser.” (joking)
>”Probably a piece of shit for the price I paid.” (cynical)

>>697239
> cynical
You gonna have a lot of work to do!

>”The ad didn’t say. All I know is that it’s a class 2.” (tell the truth)

>>697239

Tell the truth. Nothing inspires confidence like someone who is willing to share your fears. Joking is for combat. And grenades. Grenades are for combat too.

>>697239
>”Probably a piece of shit for the price I paid.” (cynical)

>>697239
>>”The ad didn’t say. All I know is that it’s a class 2.” (tell the truth)

>>697239
go with the truth

it just improves relationships

>>697239
>”The ad didn’t say. All I know is that it’s a class 2.” (tell the truth)

>>697239
>”The ad didn’t say. All I know is that it’s a class 2.” (tell the truth)

Hey, I live in Fargo. Is it that Fargo?

>>697329
It's absolutely that Fargo.

>>697336
Bah, my trip fell off. It's still me, I promise.

>>697340
Liar

>>697340
I thought that was a hospital they were putting up off interstate. Not a spaceport.

>>697346
They're not in Fargo currently. They're at the Low-Earth Orbit Dockyards where most starships go through customs. It's cheaper to dock in LEO than landing on a planet. They took a small passenger shuttle up.

File: Dock number sixteen.jpg (39 KB, 736x397)

39 KB JPG

“I honestly don’t know,” you say. You hear Cynthia sigh beside you and look to see her rubbing the bridge of her nose. Your mind goes back to several times as teenagers when you had done something to make her mad, and you instantly know where this is going.

“You bought it from one of those government clearing houses, didn’t you?” She looks at you like a teacher who has just caught a student cheating on a test.

“I was a junior officer,” you reply. “My pension wasn’t exactly a fortune.” The two of you near your destination.

“Well,” she sighs again. “At least older doesn’t always mean bad. We may get lucky and find ourselves in possession of a real gem. What weight class is the ship, they at least told you that, right?” There is a loud alarm as a ship next to you decouples and backs out of the dock.

“It’s a class 2,” you say. “So it’s probably a frigate. Cynthia looks thoughtfully at nowhere in particular as the wheels in her head begin to turn. You can tell she’s doing some mental gymnastics regarding your new ship.

“Well, if it’s a frigate, the ship could prove quite useful. Small enough to be relatively cheap to run, yet large enough to haul whatever cargo we need.” She looks at you and nods. “You may have done all right as far as ships go.”

The two of you reach Dock 16 to find a starship maybe 300 feet in length. It looks like a bloated lozenge and its bare metal panels are beginning to rust at the edges. It is propped up by stubby landing gear, and a forward-facing cargo door is open to reveal a poorly-lit cargo bay.

“I mean, it could be worse…” You blink a few times to make sure you’re seeing correctly. Your ship is an Oberon-Class frigate, probably retired thirty years ago.

Cynthia doesn’t speak, she’s too busy looking at the ship, her eyes darting from one spot to another. “It’s certainly a ship,” she says with a grimace. “I’ll go check its systems, make sure we’re spaceworthy.”

>Look for your other crew, they should be here by now.
>Explore the ship with Cynthia, there’s much work to be done.

>>697391
>Look for your other crew, they should be here by now.

>>697391
>Look for your other crew, they should be here by now.

>>697391
>>Look for your other crew, they should be here by now.

>>697391

Look for your other crew. And a preacher. You know, to bless the ship.

And for strawberries.

>Look for your other crew, they should be here by now.

>>697391
>>Look for your other crew, they should be here by now.

>>697391
>look for your ther crew, they shuld be here by now
>tell Cynthia to tell you immediately if she finds something qestionable about the ship. As long as we are here at the port we can fix it


Besides: Do you guys know any novels which tell a story like that? Young captain buys a ship, gets a crew together and experiences space adventures?

File: McMurdo.jpg (37 KB, 225x350)

37 KB JPG

“I’m going to look for the other crew members I hired,” you say to Cynthia. You pass her a key stub so that she can get through the interior door at the rear of the cargo bay.

“Right,” she replies. “I’ll see what we’ve got as far as a powerplant, then I’ll set up shop in the engineering room.” She turns and walks briskly toward the cargo ramp.

You turn around and walk toward one of the small gathering areas opposite the docks. The one in front of your ship is mostly empty, with a few patrons obviously not being members of your crew. You had selected people who you had met throughout your travels, people who you knew wouldn’t rattle in an emergency. Still, it was troubling that they weren’t here yet.

You walk up to the small bar at the back of the gathering area and sit down, resting your elbows on the countertop. The docks are poorly ventilated, as expected of a nearly century-old station. It reminds you of the shoddy heating aboard the ships you’d served on. You turn your collar up and put a hand in your pocket, feeling around for whatever cash you can find. Oh, right, you’d spent the last of it hiring your crew. Damn.

“S’cuse me,” a man speaks to the bartender. “I’d like a drink for me and my captain, here.” You look over to see a man with a sarcastic grin and messy blond hair. He puts some cash down on the counter and lights a cigarette. Your right-hand man and former co-pilot, Tom McMurdo takes a seat next to you. “Been a while, sir.”

>”How have you been, Tom?” (friendly)
>”Lieutenant.” (professional/cool)
>”You’re late.” (cold)

>”How have you been, Tom?” (friendly)

>>697495
>>”Lieutenant.” (professional/cool)

>>697495
>”Lieutenant?”
>”How have you been, Tom?” (friendly)

>>697495
>>”How have you been, Tom?” (friendly)

>>697495
>Lieutenant.


Besides: Do you guys know any novels which tell a story like that? Young captain buys a ship, gets a crew together and experiences space adventures?

>>697490

I'd say....something involving fire and flies.

>>697540
What do you mean anon? Speak in clear tougne, please!

>>697544

Duh, man! Star trek!

>>697519
It's not a novel, but Firefly did that. Actually, I'd bet there probably is a Firefly novel by now. Also, I'd be willing to bet you could find plots like that in old pulp sci-fi stuff.

I mean, this quest is basically just a mashup of all the sci-fi stuff that I like.

>>697519
I'm fairly sure the Han Solo novels do something like that

File: Brooklyn Bebop 99.png (268 KB, 500x279)

268 KB PNG

>>697519
Beyond novels, Cowboy Bebop, Outlaw Star and Space Dandy do something similar. Though the last is a lot weirder than the other two.

File: Tom McMurdo.jpg (16 KB, 400x299)

16 KB JPG

“How have you been, Tom?” It had been almost two years since you’d last seen your trusted co-pilot. He hasn’t changed all that much, other than having a bit of stubble now. The bartender sits two bottles of no-brand beer on the counter.

“You know, just hanging in there. I was working out at one of those new orbital hydro-farms until recently. Huge place.” He takes a deep drink of his beer and you grab yours and do the same, well, it’s more of a sip for you. “I got here maybe an hour ago and got the cargo ramp down. He gestures to the ship with his now half-empty bottle. “Ship’s a piece of work, but everything seems to be in working order.” He sets the beer down and takes a drag of his cigarette before continuing. “Still, we’ll definitely need to fix the lights in the cargo hold, about half of them are either out or almost out.”

You sigh and take another drink of the beer, grimacing. The beer may be cheap, but at least you didn’t pay for it. Tom doesn’t seem to mind though, as he finishes his bottle. “So where’s the rest of the crew?” You decide to move the conversation away from your hefty purchase’s shortcomings.

“Don’t know yet,” Tom replies. “They should be here soon, I sent both of them the time slot we have the dock rented for, if they don’t show up after that, they’ll get left behind, I guess.” He gets up from the bar and you follow him. “I went ahead and had all of your and the girl’s luggage brought aboard when the postal guys delivered it.”

>”How long do we have the dock for?”
>”Let’s see the ship, then. Give me the grand tour.”
>”I heard that the clearing houses give these ships a random name, were you able to find it on the ID tags?”

>>697703
>>”I heard that the clearing houses give these ships a random name, were you able to find it on the ID tags?”

>>697703
>”How long do we have the dock for?”

>>697703
>”I heard that the clearing houses give these ships a random name, were you able to find it on the ID tags?”

>>697703
>>”I heard that the clearing houses give these ships a random name, were you able to find it on the ID tags?”

>>697703
>”I heard that the clearing houses give these ships a random name, were you able to find it on the ID tags?”
"I read a top one hundred names list for one of them and I haven't had such a good laugh since Turias-3."

>>697572
>>697558
>>697553
>>697552

oh and thanks guys for your answers

>>697703
>>”I heard that the clearing houses give these ships a random name, were you able to find it on the ID tags?”

File: Dockyard.jpg (243 KB, 1800x771)

243 KB JPG

“When I talked with the rep from the clearing house, she mentioned that they give the ships a random name,” you say. “Did you check the ID tags to see what to call our ship?”

You walk out to the docks with Tom as he lights another cigarette. “Yeah, that was actually one of the first things I checked.” He looks at you with a smirk. “You’re gonna love this. Our ship’s name is ‘Bad Habit’.” He takes a drag of the cigarette.

“Damn,” you reply with a chuckle. “That’s actually pretty cool.” You’d heard horror stories of ships coming from the clearing house with names like ‘Lukewarm Eggplant’, or ‘Herbert Hoover’. You’re pretty glad you got a decent one, you just don’t have the cash to get it changed right now. The two of you side-step to let a small taxi through. You notice that it’s carrying Naval officers in dress blues.

“Yeah,” Tom says bluntly. “And it’s original. Apparently ours is the only ship in the Federation with that name.”

The docks are beginning to calm down now, the hustle of midday is over, and the crews are preparing to switch shifts. You notice that several other ships have pulled away from their moorings and headed out into space. The two of you stop just in front of the Bad habit to see a woman with her back turned to you, looking at the ship. She wears all black and carries a large suitcase. She looks oddly familiar, but you can't place it without seeing her face.

>Tell her the Bad Habit isn’t equipped to carry passengers right now.
>Introduce yourself and Tom to her.
>Let Tom handle her.

>>697889
>>Introduce yourself and Tom to her.

>>697889
>Introduce yourself and Tom to her.
SPAGHETTI MODE ENGAGED

>>697889
>>Introduce yourself and Tom to her.
Oh hi Simon Tam

>>697889
>Introduce yourself and Tom to her."

>>697889
>Introduce yourself, ask how we can help

>>697914
>>697910
>>697909
>>697906

this


i have to go to bed right now (3am in germany) but thanks for the run so far, will check the thread tomorrow, please post your twitter if you want to continue, like your style of writing op

File: Corrigan.jpg (22 KB, 637x356)

22 KB JPG

You decide it would be best to introduce yourself and Tom personally, seeing as you are the captain. She’s probably a potential passenger, and passengers pay good money to get where they need to go, which means a big payday.

“Good afternoon, miss,” you say in your friendliest voice. “Are you looking for a ship to take you somewhere?” She turns around, and you don’t even have to see her face to recognize her. The accent is enough.

“Good afternoon to you as well, Mr. Starwind. Though I suppose I should call you Captain now, I think,” her accent immediately identifies her as a citizen of the Empire, who were at war with the Federation until two years ago. This young woman, however, is not any kind of enemy. She is your new weapons officer, Corrigan Vatner. She speaks in the same monotone, yet exotic accent that you remember from your brief time in the Empire after the peace treaty was signed.

“Sir, who’s this Imperial?” Tom seems to be put on-edge by Corrigan, and for good reason, most citizens of the Federation still hold a deep fear and hatred of the Empire. Still, it isn’t really reasonable for a Navy veteran to be scared of a nineteen year-old girl whose luggage probably weighs as much as her.

“It’s okay, Tom. She’s our weapons officer,” you reply calmly. Tom looks at you, then Corrigan, then back to you. “She’s from one of the Imperial Missile Clans, her name’s Corrigan Vatner.”

Tom is silent for about thirty seconds while he looks at her, almost like a drill sergeant would look at a new batch of recruits. “Miss Corrigan,” he says finally, putting out a hand. “I’m Tom McMurdo, first officer aboard the Bad Habit.”

She shakes his hand and bows slightly to both of you. “I look forward to working with both of you, I have never studied Federation weapon-systems before.” She turns and begins to head toward the Bad Habit.

>Let her go.
>”Do you need help with that suitcase?”
>(to Tom) “You don’t trust her?”

>>698001
>>”Do you need help with that suitcase?”
>(to Tom) “You don’t trust her?”

>>698001
>>”Do you need help with that suitcase?”

>>698001
> do you need help with that suitcase?
Tell Tom that if she beats him up not to come crying to us.

File: Tom.jpg (29 KB, 640x480)

29 KB JPG

“Corrigan, wait,” You say. She stops in her tracks, turning around and looking at you with an expression you can’t put your finger on. “That suitcase looks heavy, would you like me to help you with it?”

For a moment, she seems to have a hard time processing what you’ve said. Then, her eyes go wide and she looks at the ground, her cheeks bright crimson. You and Tom both glance at each other with raised eyebrows as she mutters something to herself in her native language. She then looks back to you, making eye contact for a brief second before looking away again.

“N-no thank you, sir.” She speaks quickly and quietly, fidgeting in place. This is the first time you’ve ever seen anyone react that way when you’ve asked them if they needed help. “If you will excuse me, I will retire to my quarters for now, sir.” She then turns and practically jogs toward the Bad habit, entering the cargo bay and disappearing from sight somewhere in the ship.

After a solid minute of silence, Tom speaks. “Man, that was weird.”

“You said it,” you reply. “I didn’t do anything strange to make her act that way, right?” Tom raises an eyebrow and shrugs at you.

“Hell if I know, sir. Imperials are just weird like that. You’re the expert on their culture, not me.” He takes a final drag from his cigarette and drops it to the ground, crushing it under his boot.

“I was on Europa for like, four weeks,” you reply. “I’m hardly an expert on Imperial culture.” You walk over to the cargo ramp and sit down on the part where it begins to incline. Tom follows you, leaning up against one of the large, hydraulic supports that raise and lower the ramp. You slowly sip on what’s left of your beer as you think of what to do next.

“Captain,” you hear Tom speak up. “I’m going to head upstairs and get some things squared away. Make sure we’ve got enough provisions in dry storage, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” you reply. “See you.” He waves back at you as he climbs the stairs to the crew area of the ship.

Well, now you have some time on your hands until your final crewman arrives.

>Head to the customs office and see if there are any cargoes available to transport.
>Go visit Cynthia, see what her opinion of the ship is.
>Explore the docks a little bit.

>>697506
>”Do you need help with that suitcase?”

>>698165
>>Head to the customs office and see if there are any cargoes available to transport.

>Go visit Cynthia, see what her opinion of the ship is.

>>698165
> head to customs
Then we can decide where we go by what we can pick up cheap

>>698165
>Head to the customs office and see if there are any cargoes available to transport.
What do Imperials sound like?

>>698207
Vaguely Eastern-European.

>>698207
>>698213
Actually, scratch that, the Inner Imperial accent, (meaning Imperials from the Solar System) have an accent that sounds like a mix of Dutch and Russian, because they are descended from Dutch and Russian colonists, so even their language is a mix of the two.

Outer Imperials (meaning any Imperials who live on their old colonies outside the Solar System) speak a wide variety of languages and have an accent that sounds almost South African.

Then there are Imperial Citizens who live on colonies seized during the War, who are basically still Federals, which are very culturally diverse, and generally speak English when doing business.

File: Virgo.jpg (364 KB, 2010x1080)

364 KB JPG

You decide to head down to Customs and see if there are any cargoes that require transport. The route to the Customs Office is pretty straightforward, being located in between Docks 10 and 11. You arrive to find a small line there, and you get into line behind a tall man in a hooded, gray and blue jacket. The man is probably 6’7’’, and he has his hood up, so you can’t tell much about him. The line gradually shrinks until it’s time for the man to get his business done. You realize he’s carrying a heavy-looking box as he sets it up on the counter with a loud thud.

“Excuse me,” he says. You notice his voice sounds odd, like non-human odd. He’s probably one of the many alien travelers who come to earth to see the sights. Damn tourists. You peek around him to see him open the box, which contains a silver staff with a sharp axe-head on one end, and a small spike on the other. Never mind, this guy is definitely not a tourist.

“S-sir!” The lady at the counter speaks up. “You can’t bring that through customs without a proper permit!” You hear the alien sigh as he moves a hand up to his head.

“Listen, miss.” You recognize the voice now, he’s definitely a Thulian. “This is very important to me, and you should be happy I respect your laws enough to bring it through customs in the first place. A less moral person would’ve just walked through with it.” He shrugs. “To be fair, your security is something of a joke.”

The woman looks angry now. “Mister! You will need to go and get a permit for that, or I will call security!”

The Thulian puts up a hand and speaks tiredly. “I’m not taking it to Earth anyway, I’m headed out aboard a ship. If you would be so kind to watch my scepter while I find my captain, I can bring him here to file for it.”

He turns around and looks down at you, surprised. Normally, all Thulians look pretty similar to you, but you’d recognize the scarred maw if this one anywhere.

“Captain Starwind.” He says to you, raising a bony eyebrow.

“Virgo?”

>”Why are you bringing a battle axe aboard my ship?”
>”I’ll go ahead and sign for your scepter.”
>”What took you so long?”

>>698295
>”I’ll go ahead and sign for your scepter.”
>"I find myself tempted to make an axe pun, but I can be merciful, so you get a pass."

>>698295
>”I’ll go ahead and sign for your scepter.”
but ask why he got it

>>698295
> I'll sign for your shit
> what took so long
Stahp teasing the c-sec employees Garrus, I remember how much you used to complain about this job before you gave up and went full avenging murderhobo.

File: calibrations.jpg (108 KB, 1191x670)

108 KB JPG

You peek around him and make eye-contact with the lady at the counter, a mousy twenty-something who looks like she only took the job to pay her way through art school.

“I’m his captain. If you’ll hand me the papers, I’ll sign for it.” You step around Virgo and walk up to the counter. She reluctantly hands you a form of weapon transit, and you begin filling it out.

“Thanks, sir.” Virgo says with a small bow. He then closes the box and slings it over his shoulder by a leather strap.

“Of course,” you reply. “But I need to axe you why you’re bringing it aboard.” You look at him with the widest grin you can muster. He just rolls his eyes.

“Captain, that pun is the worst thing that’s happened to me today. And I spent the better part of this morning in the restroom dealing with the consequences of eating space station curry.”

You grimace, as does the customs girl. “I guess I deserved that mental image,” you say to yourself, finishing the form and handing it to her.

“Thanks again,” Virgo says. “I’ll go ahead and get my things squared away. Which ship is it?”

“Dock 19,” you reply.

“Is there anything else you need, captain?” The customs girl pushes her glasses up and sighs.

>”I’d like a list of available cargo contracts.”
>”I’d like your phone number~”
>”No thanks.”

>>698362
>”I’d like a list of available cargo contracts.”

>>698362
>”I’d like a list of available cargo contracts.”

>>698362
>”I’d like a list of available cargo contracts.”

(OOC: I’m gonna brief you guys on the way contracts work, since Allen already knows this shit but you guys don’t.)

Cargo contracts work on a star-based system, more stars GENERALLY means a higher difficulty (though it really means more valuable or important cargo), and more stars always mean better pay. The levels go from one to ten. You may accept more than one contract at a time.
EXAMPLE:

>Cargo: 10 llamas from EARTH to VENUS (***)

(End OOC)

“I’d like a list of available cargo contracts,” you say bluntly. The customs girl huffs at you and hands you the paper with available contracts.

>Cargo: Irrigation parts from EARTH to MARS (**)
>Cargo: Ammunition from EARTH to NEW ALBANY (***)
>Cargo: Machine tools from EARTH to GANYMEDE (***)
>Cargo: 1x Long Box from EARTH to TITAN (********)

>>698554
>>Cargo: Machine tools from EARTH to GANYMEDE (***)

>>698554
>Cargo: Irrigation parts from EARTH to MARS (**)
>Cargo: Ammunition from EARTH to NEW ALBANY (***)
>Cargo: Machine tools from EARTH to GANYMEDE (***)

>>698554
Where the fuck is new Albany? Can fit more than one load in out bu- hold, our cargo hold? That way we can do a run to Jupes and stop at mars on the way.

If so take the first the otherwise take the three star job with the closest destination.

>>698633
New Albany is a colony in a star system maybe two days' FTL jump from the edge of the Solar System. There's enough hold space to just BARELY fit the first three contracts. Though you can pick up more cargo as you offload, so you could theoretically drop off the farm stuff at mars, then pick up something on its way to Jupiter to fill that now-empty space on your way to Ganymede.

Though I'm a little surprised nobody has asked what the long box is all about.

>>698668
>>698633
Well then I change my vote to the mars and Ganymede ones, give the shop a test first before we go too far from civilisation. Also just realise that mars might not even be on the way to Jupiter at the moment, oh well.

>>698554
>Cargo: Irrigation parts from EARTH to MARS (**)
>Cargo: Ammunition from EARTH to NEW ALBANY (***)
>Cargo: Machine tools from EARTH to GANYMEDE (***)
We gon be rich

Okay then, we've got:
>1 vote for just Ganymede
>1 vote for Mars+Ganymede
>2 votes for the first three
>0 Votes for Sketchy Long Box

I'll give it another ten minutes before I start writing.

>>698668
>Though I'm a little surprised nobody has asked what the long box is all about.
Nature of the game. Quest peeps don't wanna take risks until they've got a few wins under their belt.

File: Lt. Tom McMurdo.jpg (31 KB, 386x330)

31 KB JPG

You check the boxes next to the first three contracts and sign your name at the bottom of the paper. You figure they should all be easy assignments, plus the combined pay from all of them should help to free up some more cash. Still, loading all three cargoes is going to be a pain in the ass. You make your way back to the Bad Habit, where you find Tom speaking with a member of Customs. As you approach, the customs official shakes his hand and walks away.

“What was that all about?” You hurry over to Tom. He lights a cigarette and crosses his arms.

“Guy from the port authority,” Tom replies simply. “I had to sign off on the insurance papers for the cargo you ordered.” Really? You’re surprised how fast these customs people work. Tom looks at you tiredly. “We better not damage any of this cargo. We don’t have enough cash to pay the insurance bill if we do.”

“Duly noted,” you say. “So how long until we get the cargo and shove off?” Tom leans against the wall and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Miss Cynthia says she can have us ready to fly in less than an hour.” He looks over toward the loading bay where the cargo will be towed out toward waiting starships. “The cargo should be here within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Alright,” you say. “We’re going to be delivering cargo to Mars, then Ganymede…” You trail off for a moment. “Then we’ll be headed to New Albany.”

“New Albany, huh?” Tom doesn’t say much for the next minute or so. “So we’ll probably be away from home for the next week or so.”

“This ship is home now,” You reply. Tom looks at you with a small smile.

“So we’ll be living on the move?” He takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Just like old times?”

“Aye,” you smile too. “Just like old times.”

File: Liftoff.jpg (47 KB, 900x348)

47 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GqyposaQWnI

Alrighty then! I'm gonna pause the thread for tonight. I'll be running another session tomorrow starting at 5:30 PM EST, I hope to see you guys there as well! I'll be announcing it in the /qtg/, and I'll work on getting a QM twitter up and running.

Feel free to post things you liked, didn't like, questions, comments, criticisms, waifus, husbandos, the whole lot!

>>698851
Hey, thanks for running. Excited to see where this whole thing goes.

>>698851
Thanks for running! Can't wait for the next session

>>698851
I like your writing
hope you come back to deliver

>>697134
What setting does this take place in?

>>700267
A made up one. It ain't fanfiction.

File: A goddamn center lathe.jpg (16 KB, 450x238)

16 KB JPG

Well, it takes the port authority longer than expected to get the cargo out to the dock. You and Tom wait almost half an hour before the first of the crates are brought out. The first ones are the ammunition supplies for the local militias on New Albany, most of the boxes are relatively small, and you and Tom have no trouble loading them near the back of the hold.

However, trouble soon rears its ugly head as the shipment of machine tools arrives. The crates are as tall as you, and maybe twelve feet long, and there are ten of them. You walk up to the crew who hauled the crates out and speak with the guy who appears to be in charge, a man with graying hair and biceps as big around as your waist.

“Wait, I thought we were just delivering machine tools, not the entire machines.” You gesture to the massive boxes that now rest as the foot of the cargo ramp.

“It is what it is,” the guy replies with a shrug. “Anyway, we’ve got more things to move, can I go now?” You start follow him as he walks back to the forklift they used to move the crates here in the first place. The rest of his crew follow him, and you realize keeping him here to help you load the cargo is a lost cause.

He drives off and leaves you and Tom alone with the cargo. “Uh, Sir?” Tom speaks up, looking at the crates. “We’re not moving these things without some kind of machine.” He gently kicks one of the boxes, then leans against it.

>Go get Virgo, this is exactly why you hired him in the first place.
>’Borrow’ one of the forklifts.
>Attempt to push the crates in anyway. They’re probably not that heavy.

>>700745
Fucking balls. Forgot my trip again.

Can you guys tell how new I am at this yet?

>>700745
>>Go get Virgo, this is exactly why you hired him in the first place.

>>700752
happens to even old hands boss

>>700745
> get Virgo and a forklift.

>>700745
>>Go get Virgo, this is exactly why you hired him in the first place.

>>700745
>Go get Virgo, this is exactly why you hired him in the first place.

>>700752
You're fine mate, I never even notice usernames/trips.

>>700745
> Go get Virgo, tell him to steal a forklift

File: Virgo scars.jpg (556 KB, 923x932)

556 KB JPG

“Hold up,” you say to Tom, walking toward the cargo bay. “I’m going to go find Virgo, he can help.” Tom looks at you like he’s about to say something, but he is quickly interrupted.

“Help with what, sir?” You look up into the cargo bay to see Virgo leaning against a railing on the staircase, looking down at both of you. He jaunts down the stairs and walks up to you. “The life support systems aren’t on-line yet, so it’s a little stuffy in my quarters. I decided to go where I can at least feel some air circulating.”

You nod at him, secretly hoping the life support is just turned off right now and not damaged. Still, you’re sure Cynthia would’ve told you if the system broken. “Could you help me and Tom move this cargo?” You point to the massive crates, as well as another set of large crates that just arrived, likely the irrigation parts.

Virgo sighs and looks from you to the boxes. “I don’t mind being a glorified forklift,” he says sarcastically. “But I wish you would’ve at least told me that was your reason for hiring me.”

He walks over to the boxes and puts his hands on them, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He does this for each box, then stands at the space near the bottom of the ramp. You meet him there, and Tom quickly joins both of you.

Virgo sits on the ground, cross-legged, and begins making a noise so low you almost can’t hear it. Then, the boxes all lift about a tenth of an inch off the ground.

“What the hell was that?” Tom looks wide-eyed at the boxes, then to Virgo.

“I’m a Magus Aphorius,” Virgo says in an annoyed tone, not opening his eyes. “It means I can manipulate gravity. But I won’t be able to make these crates weightless for much longer. They’re damn heavy.”

The two of you begin moving the boxes with your bare hands, neatly stacking them in a way that will prevent them from toppling over, while still giving you enough space to walk through the hold. “Okay, Virgo. We’re done,” you call back to him. He sighs and opens his eyes, and you hear the loud thud of all the crates dropping the tiny amount of distance to the floor.

“Thanks Virgo,” you and Tom both say. He nods at you and goes back to his spot on the railing.

“Sir,” Tom gets your attention. “We’ve still got one and a half hours until we have to get out of here. Your orders?”

>”Show me around the ship.”
>”I’m headed up to engineering to see what’s wrong with the life support.”
>”What do you suggest?”

>>700895
>>”I’m headed up to engineering to see what’s wrong with the life support.”

>>700895
>>”I’m headed up to engineering to see what’s wrong with the life support.”

>>700895
>>”I’m headed up to engineering to see what’s wrong with the life support.”

>>700895
>”I’m headed up to engineering to see what’s wrong with the life support.”
Virgo seems pretty based.

>>700895
> Go to engineering, see if Cynthia needs anything, like more duct tape.

>>700895
>”I’m headed up to engineering to see what’s wrong with the life support.”
"Oh, I haven't checked the specifics of our consumables, but can you make sure there's a good supply of rum."

>>700989
Trust me, if anyone would make sure there's enough liquor aboard, it'd be Tom.

>>701001
Tom is a hell yeah motherfucker sort of bro ain't he? [salutes internally]

>>701010
More of a cynical, yet friendly alcoholic. Mostly because he was a marine for a while before being a co-pilot. An injury forced him out of ground combat. Pretty much everyone who was ground forces in the war is little fucked up from it. Every land battle was like turbo-Stalingrad.

Anyway, writing now.

>>701050
*at least a little fucked up from it.

I need to focus on one thing at a time.

>>701050
Ah, that's why he was so apprehensive about having that Imperial in our crew, even if she was a civvy during the war.

File: engineroom.jpg (174 KB, 1020x942)

174 KB JPG

“I’m headed over to Engineering,” you say, turning on your heels. “You have everything locked down here?”

“I’m actually headed upstairs too, sir.” Tom walks with you up the stairs to the bulkhead. “There are some things I need to get squared away on the bridge. The ship’s central computer needs booted up.” He opens the bulkhead for you, and you find yourselves in the main engineering room. “You have to cut through here to get to get from the cargo hold to the rest of the ship.” He points to a doorway at the aft-end of the room. “Miss Cynthia is working on something in the reactor access hall. That’s where you’ll find her, sir.”

He gives you a casual salute before turning and ascending a small set of stars next to the bulkhead door. The main engineering room is relatively cramped, with many toolboxes and crates of spare parts. It looks more like an old garage than the engineering department of a former warship. You notice that the lights are constantly flickering from normal to slightly dimmer, just barely enough to notice.

You walk up to the door to the access room and hear the clang of a wrench being dropped, as well as a muffled curse. You step through the doorway to see two large generators, one on each side of the room, with a small walkway in the middle leading to the reactor room. A panel has been removed from the bottom of one of the generators, and you see that your mechanic is hard at work already, she has crawled into the area beneath the generator and only her legs are sticking out. You hear another clang, and a muffled “Dangit!”

>”Uh… Cynthia?” (curious)
>”Why are you already tearing my ship apart?!” (joking)
>”Is there anything I can help with?” (concerned)
>Kick her boot to get her attention.

>>701137
> kick her boot to get her attention

>>701137
>”Uh… Cynthia?” (curious)
>”Is there anything I can help with?” (concerned)

>>701137
>>”Is there anything I can help with?” (concerned)

>>701137
>>”Uh… Cynthia?” (curious)
>”Is there anything I can help with?” (concerned)

>>701137
>Kick/tap her boot to get her attention.

>>701137
>"BOO!"

File: We've got mechanical problems.jpg (44 KB, 480x640)

44 KB JPG

“Uh… Cynthia?” You kneel down to see if you can get a better idea of what she’s working on. As you do, you hear a loud thud.

“Ow. That hurt.” She then scuttles out from under the generator and leans against the outside of it, rubbing her head. “Hey, Allen…” Her cheeks go a little bit red for a second. “Actually, I suppose I should call you ‘Captain’ now, huh?”

“It’s fine,” you reply. “Did you need any help with…” You look at the machine, finding yourself at a loss for words. “Whatever it is you’re doing?” She chuckles at you before knocking a fist against the side of the generator.

“No thanks, sir.” She kneels down to pick up one of the wrenches laying on the floor. “No offense, but you were never that mechanically inclined.” You put a hand to your chest, acting as though you’ve been shot.

“I’m hurt,” you say playfully. “But seriously, what are you working on?”

She points to the flickering light above her head. “I’m sure you’ve noticed the flickering lights? It’s enough to give me a headache.” She points to the generator. “It’s a power-supply issue. There isn’t enough juice of sufficient amperage moving through the power cables to give us consistent power. That’s also why the air isn’t on.” You nod in affirmation.

“So why aren’t we getting enough power? The reactor is working, right?” You point toward the reactor room.

“Yeah,” she replies. “It’s a Thorium reactor, basically indestructible. The problem is the starboard generator here,” she says. With that, she smacks the side of the generator. “All the ship’s power goes through these babies, and this one is all jacked up. Still, it’s mostly just replacing lengths of cable and replacing a fuse here and there. Shouldn’t take much more time.” She sighs. “Anything else you need, sir?”

>”Tell me about the rest of the ship, what else should I know?”
>”Nope, that’ll be all.”
>”Are you sure you don’t need my help?”
>”You meet the rest of the crew yet?”

>>701459
>”Tell me about the rest of the ship, what else should I know?”
>”Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

>>701459
>>”Tell me about the rest of the ship, what else should I know?”

>>701459
>>”Nope, that’ll be all.”
We'll let her get back to work

>>701459
>>”Tell me about the rest of the ship, what else should I know?”
>”You meet the rest of the crew yet?”

>>701459
>”Tell me about the rest of the ship, what else should I know?”
we millenium falcon now

File: Oberon Class.png (34 KB, 1890x704)

34 KB PNG

“So is there anything else about the ship I should know?” You lean against the opposite generator. Cynthia raises her eyebrow for a second, as if lost in thought.

“Oh,” she exclaims, walking over to the other end of the room and picking up a clipboard. “Here, this is a layout of the ship. You can see where everything is from here. Should make it easier to navigate through the vessel.”

You look down at the coffee-stained sheet to see a layout of the ship that appears to have been copied from the original shipyard drafts. It is definitely useful, as you currently had no idea where things were in the ship. “Thanks,” you say.

“No problem.” She motions for you to follow her into the engineering room. “Of course, there are going to be things that break down from regular wear and tear, but you can check up with me if you want an estimate of things that we’ll need to be replacing soon.” She opens a toolbox and pulls out several lengths of cable. “Also, if you plan on making any modifications to the ship, new sublight engines, better nav equipment, reconfiguring a room…” She looks at you warningly before continuing. “Please consult with me first.”

“Will do,” you reply. “So what do you think of the Bad Habit? Did I do well?”

She looks at you tiredly before smiling. “You did better than I first thought,” she says. “Though I should’ve expected as much. You’ve always been pretty lucky.” She winks at you before turning and going back into the generator room. “Anyway, I need to get these generators back together. Good talk, sir.” She closes the door behind her and that’s the end of it.

>Go to your quarters and unpack some of your luggage.
>Head to the bridge.
>Visit a crew member (specify).

>>701691
>Visit a crew member (specify).
Go check in with Virgo, make sure he knows he's more than just the psychic forklift.

>>701704
>>Visit a crew member (specify).
Virgo

>>701704
>>Go to your quarters and unpack some of your luggage.

>>701704
> Go visit Virgo
Make sure he knows he is just a psychic forklift. Have a shiny little axe doesn't make him special. Oh, he is also ships cook when there is no heavy lifting to do.

>>701822
>Oh, he is also ships cook when there is no heavy lifting to do
You wouldn't want that. For the crew's sake.

>>701822
LOOKS LIKE WE GOT A WISE GUY EH

File: Psychic_forklift.jpg (536 KB, 1680x1050)

536 KB JPG

You decide to go and see what Virgo is up to. You open the bulkhead door to the cargo hold to see him still leaning against the railing, though he’s reading a book now. “Oh, hi sir.” He says.

“Hey Virgo,” you reply. You decide to lean against the railing opposite him. “You know I didn’t just bring you aboard for your Magus powers, right?”

“Oh that?” He looks up from his book. Most Thulians are hard to read, but you’d recognize his grin anywhere. “I know you had other reasons for bringing me aboard. I’m honestly glad I got the call in the first place. I was getting really tired of the other Magus’ shit. Pretty much any job offer could’ve pulled me away from those assholes.” He laughs to himself for a moment.

He continues reading through his book for a few more moments, flipping a page every now and then. “So sir,” he finally says, almost out of the blue. “Be honest with me, do any of the crew seem wary about me being aboard? I know my people haven’t had the best relations with you humans.”

>”I honestly don’t know. I haven’t talked to anyone else yet.”
>”The crew don’t care that you’re Thulian. They’re good like that.”
>”They might be a little on-edge. If they are, I’ll talk to them.”

>>701922
>>”They might be a little on-edge. If they are, I’ll talk to them.”

>>701922
>I honestly don't know, I haven't talked to everyone else yet

>>701922
>>”They might be a little on-edge. If they are, I’ll talk to them.”

>>701922
>”They might be a little on-edge. If they are, I’ll talk to them.”

File: A cargo hold for ants.jpg (135 KB, 300x198)

135 KB JPG

“Some of them might be a little on-edge from you being here,” you reply bluntly. Virgo merely nods. “But I’ll talk to any of them if I see them acting strange around you.”

“Thanks, sir.” Virgo smiles at you good-naturedly. Just as it looks like he’s about to say something else, you hear a rumble and feel air begin to flow from the vent over your head. And you notice the flickering in the lights is gone. You hear Virgo sigh with relief. “That air feels good,” he says, running a hand along his head.

“Attention all crew,” Tom’s voice comes over the intercom. “We’ve got all our systems running at acceptable flying capacity. We’re ready for flight. Closing the cargo loading ramp now.” With that, you hear the hydraulics groan to life as the ramp closes in front of both of you.

“Well sir,” Virgo says, turning away from you. “I’m going to head to my quarters and relax a little. Maybe finish this book before I get a little shut-eye. I’ve been up for about forty-eight hours.” He walks through the doorway and you hear him climb the stairs heavily.

>Go to your quarters and unpack your things.
>Head up to the bridge.
>Seek out a crew member (specify)

>>702062
> Head to the bridge
Make sure the big chair is comfy.

>>702062
>Head up to the bridge.
What kind of captain wouldn't be on the bridge for the commencement of his ship's maiden voyage?

>>702062
>>Head up to the bridge.

File: TNGCaption233a.jpg (149 KB, 800x601)

149 KB JPG

>>702062
>Head up to the bridge.
Who's our Number One here?

>>702130

Find the captains chair. Take a number two.

We may need it, depending on the ease of take-off.

>>702153
>depending on the ease of take-off
The newer Oberons have been described as "like flying a couch."

The Bad Habit is most certainly not a newer one.

>>702194
Are they as comfy as a couch? They aren't are they

File: Your ship's bridge looks (...).jpg (608 KB, 1280x972)

608 KB JPG

You use the layout paper to guide yourself up two flights of stairs, then aft through the combat information center, until you reach the last set of stairs that lead directly to the access room that connects the bridge to your personal quarters. As excited as you are to see what kind of place you’ll hang your hat, you decide it would be best to see the bridge first.

You open the hatch to find a small room, barely tall enough at the back for you to stand at full height. The ceiling slopes down gently, leading to a space that reminds you of an airplane cockpit. There are to pilots’ seats side by side, with a command chair directly aft of them.

“Sir,” Tom’s voice catches your attention. You look to see him leaning against the wall to your side.

“I came up to check the bridge out,” you reply. “Get a feel for it.” Tom grins and gestures toward the command chair. You walk over to it, almost having to crouch as the ceiling gets lower. It is relatively small, and almost reminds you of the seat from your fighter during the war, except that it has displays to either side of it that give readouts of the various systems aboard. Everything is in the green.

You sit down and adjust yourself, feeling a broken spring poke your left asscheek through the seat cushion. Tom plants himself in the pilot’s seat and flips several switches, activating the primitive, holographic heads-up display.

“What do you think, sir?” Tom looks back at you with a smirk.

>”I think it’s time to fly. Let’s get out of here.”
>”We’re gonna need to replace the chairs. Soon.”
>”I like it.”

>>702230
>>”We’re gonna need to replace the chairs. Soon.”

>>702230
>>”We’re gonna need to replace the chairs. Soon.”

>>702230
>”We’re gonna need to replace the chairs. Soon.”

>>702230
>”I like it.”
Definitely more Millenium Falcon than Enterprise.

File: Oldbridge.jpg (237 KB, 1200x644)

237 KB JPG

“We’re gonna need to replace these chairs,” you say. “Soon.” You adjust yourself again to get the spring away from your butt, unfortunately, it doesn’t work. “Or at least get some foam pads to put over the cushions.”

Tom laughs. “Let me guess,” he says. “Your seat ain’t exactly the most royal of captain’s chairs.” He gestures to the seat next to him “This one doesn’t even have a cushion. Just a piece of wood covering the springs.” You grimace thinking about it. “Still, starship seats aren’t cheap, sir.” He shrugs. “We could probably afford nicer, used ones after we finish our first voyage.”

“So we’re looking at having to deal with these seats for at least a couple of weeks,” you groan. It could be worse, you figure, but it could be a hell of a lot better too.

You look to your displays and see that everything appears to be good, landing gear pressure is a bit high, but that’s to be expected. Engine ad reactor coolant levels are fine, but they’re both running a little hot, probably from the coolant being old.

You notice a small box at the bottom of your displays with a dial for volume and a dial for channel, a radio. Neat. You look to the other side and see the shipwide intercom, which has a busted out microphone box and an aftermarket replacement mic strapped to the side.

“Well sir,” Tom cuts in. “Your orders?”

>”Prep for takeoff, we’re starting our maiden voyage.”
>”We’ll take off in a little bit, I still have some things to do.”

>>702394
> Prep for takeoff
We don't need to check out mechanic that no more problems have supporting up, no sir.

>>702394
>”Prep for takeoff, we’re starting our maiden voyage.”

>>702394
>”Prep for takeoff
Talk with mechanic and weapons expert

>>702394

No! Bless the ship! Find an old bottle of white lightning in the galley, all the crew drinks some, and the remainder smashed on the nose. Or in the bridge. Vomiting/short circuits ensue.

>>702394
>”Prep for takeoff, we’re starting our maiden voyage.”

File: 1471218517808.jpg (779 KB, 1200x903)

779 KB JPG

[1/3]

“Alright,” you say, drawing the lap-belt across yourself. “Prepare for takeoff.”

“Yes sir,” Tom replies professionally.

You turn on the PA, first selecting Engineering. “Cynthia, you there?” You wait, hearing several loud clangs over the intercom.

“Y-yes, sir!” She sounds like she just ran from the reactor room to the main engineering room. “What’s up?”

“We’re about to take off,” you say. “Everything good down there?”

“Yeah,” she replies. “Just putting all of my tools away. Wouldn’t want to leave a mess down here” You hear more metallic sounds, likely her opening and closing toolboxes. “Also, if anything is seriously wrong, you’ll get a warning on your personal console, just like you would’ve aboard your fighter in the navy. It won’t be anything exact, just stuff like ‘coolant malfunction’, or ‘gravity generator offline’, stuff like that. Any time a light like that comes on, call me.”

“Will do,” you reply, cutting the transmission. You then select the shipwide setting and begin speaking. “This is the captain. We’re about to take off. Would Miss Corrigan please report to the bridge?” You kill the transmission as Tom gets up from his seat.

“Wouldn’t want her sitting on the plywood seat,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll let her have the more comfortable one.”

Within about one minute, Corrigan arrives on the bridge, bowing slightly to you before taking a seat next to Tom. “This weapon control system…” She sounds like she’s looking at something absolutely disgusting. “It’s somewhat archaic. Not that I have a problem with that.”

“This whole ship is archaic,” Tom says, lighting a cigarette. “Probably sixty years old.” He then looks back at you. “Alright sir, all stations are at the ready. Just give the order.”

File: Earth.png (762 KB, 1280x720)

762 KB PNG

[2/3]

“Take us out, Mr. McMurdo,” you say with a practiced voice. You’d always wanted to say that. With a small jerk, the ship’s Teller Drive engages and Bad Habit slowly begins to hover. You feel another jerk as the landing gear fold up inside the ship.

“Aye, Captain.” Tom grips the control surfaces and backs the ship out of the dock, very slowly.

Within five minutes, you are out of the station and into low-Earth orbit. “Alright,” you say. “Begin orbital climb until we clear the Moon’s orbit, then engage the sublight drive.” Within fifteen minutes, you are out of the Moon’s orbital path.

“Sir, we’ve just cleared the orbital path of Earth’s moon,” Tom says. “I’ve checked with space-traffic control, we’re cleared for sublight burn.”

“Do it,” you reply with a smile. You feel the inertial dampeners engage as your ship accelerates to a speed that would’ve liquefied your skeleton without the dampeners. As your speed increases, you hers the sound of the drive begin to reverberate through the ship’s hull. You bring up the intercom and select Engineering. “How are we doing, Cynthia?”

“Everything’s holding, sir.” She says with a little bit of apprehension.

“Sir,” Tom gets your attention. “Velocity is stable. We’re on a set course for Mars.” He stretches in his seat, yawning. “ETA is tomorrow evening.”

“Alright. Good maneuver, everyone.” With that, you get up from your chair. Corrigan does the same, immediately leaving the bridge. Tom also gets up from his chair, but only to stretch.

“I’m gonna stay up here for a couple hours to make sure our velocity stays stable, sir.” He finishes his cigarette. “Then I’m gonna hit the hay. What about you? Planning on getting some shut-eye?”

File: Tom 1.jpg (20 KB, 400x300)

20 KB JPG

[3/3]

You’ve got to admit, sleep does sound pretty good right now.

>”I’m going to go unpack my things. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”
>”I think I’ll go downstairs and get some food.”
>”I’m going to explore the ship.”

>>702659
>>”I’m going to go unpack my things. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”

>>702659
>>”I’m going to go unpack my things. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.”

>>702659
>”I’m going to explore the ship.”

>>702659
> imma unpack ma shit

File: Imagine this but with a p(...).jpg (314 KB, 700x467)

314 KB JPG

“I’m gonna unpack my things,” you tell him. Stepping out through the doorway. “I’ll be in my quarters if you need me.

“Right.” Tom nods at you. “Later, sir.”

You quickly cross the access hall that separates your quarters from the bridge. The door to your quarters isn’t like the others you’ve seen so far. It looks like a conventional door instead of a hatch.

You open the door to find yourself in a somewhat nice, if somewhat dated, stateroom. There is wood paneling everywhere, and your bed is essentially a more spacious version of a standard officer bunk, with shelves above it and drawers below. There is a small desk and chair to one side of the room, and a loveseat and coffee table to the other. You look up to see a small porthole recessed into the ceiling, flanked by four small lights.

You look to see your duffle bag placed on your bed. You set it gently on the coffee table and go through your things. You remove your clothes and fold them, putting them into the drawers below your bunk. Next is your old, .45 service pistol and holster, which you lay on the table for now. Then you remove the bottle of Wild Turkey your father had given you after completing pilot school, you sit that on your desk. Next is your campaign ribbons, mounted to a small display, with a single ribbon missing from the center, you sit the display on your desk, opposite the whiskey. Finally, reluctantly, you remove the ribbon that is missing from the display. The Abraxis Ribbon. You open one of the drawers on your desk and sit the pin near the back, closing the drawer quickly.

Then, feeling the tug of sleep at the edge of your consciousness, you go and lay down in the bunk, turning all but your desk light off. It isn’t the most comfortable bed you’ve ever slept in, but it’s the most comfortable bed you’ve slept in recently.

You let your head sink into the pillow, closing your eyes and listening to the reverberations of the ship’s machinery through the hull.

“This is good.”

File: Are you living in the rea(...).jpg (12 KB, 639x334)

12 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YncNm0WQY2I

I'm gonna call the session here. Thanks for playing everyone!

As always, I encourage discussion and questions about the characters and world. I won't be running tomorrow because I'm going out of town to shoot guns with my dad. But I will be running from 6:00 PM EST to 1:00 AM EST on Sunday.

>>702937
Thanks for running QM!

>>702937
See you then mate.

Also, guys. I have a Twatter now:

https://twitter.com/ZapQM

File: Intercom.jpg (117 KB, 1024x768)

117 KB JPG

You awaken with a start, your heart racing. Same as every morning lately. You climb out of your bunk and look at the small clock above your door. You got maybe seven hours of sleep, but you feel as though you’ve only gotten four. It’s probably your body getting adjusted to space flight aboard an unfamiliar ship, you assume.

You rub your eyes and turn on the ceiling lights, wincing from the brightness. You peer around the stateroom, noticing a few things that you hadn’t last night. There is a small locker right next to your bunk, recessed into the wall. You figure it to be a weapon locker judging by the heavy lock on the latch. There is a small, framed picture of Earth hanging on the wall next to the locker, and below it is a small shelf with a few old books on naval theory. You remember reading some of them during your time at the naval academy.

However, you are interrupted from your thoughts by a small buzzing, which directs your attention to a tiny intercom box next to you, on the wall of the bunk. It figures that the crew would need a way to contact the captain if he was in his quarters, especially since this was a military ship at one point. There is a small, red button to answer the call, and it blinks on and off in a regular, albeit lazy, pattern.

>Answer it.
>Ignore it.

>>711162
>Answer it.
Being responsible and shit. Might just be important, after all.

>>711162
> Answer it
Pirates!

>>711162
>Answer it.

>>711162
>>Answer it.

File: HappyCynthia.jpg (174 KB, 800x600)

174 KB JPG

You press the button and lean in to speak. “Yeah?” If someone is calling you on the intercom, it must be important. “I’m here, what’s wrong?”

“Um…” You hear Cynthia’s voice on the other end. “I-it’s good to see that this thing works!” You hear sizzling on the other end and your heart begins to race. What could your chief engineer be calling you about this early in the morning? An electrical fire? Pirates trying to cut through the airlock?

“Cynthia,” you say, trying to remain calm. “What’s that noise in the background?” You hear some other noises as well before she replies.

“It’s what I was calling you about,” she says happily. “I’m making breakfast. I went ahead and told everyone else, and they’re all down in the wardroom right now.” She mutters something to herself that just sounds like static through the speaker. “I thought you would want some too, so I decided to test the intercom.” You sigh to yourself, more in relief than anything. At least it’s not a pirate attack or something. “So are you coming down for some breakfast with the crew, sir?”

>You might as well, you haven’t eaten since noon yesterday.
>Not right now, there are still some things you need to do.

>>711345
> YES!
And this is the first time of everyone meeting each other, might be some tensions to diffuse

>>711345

>You might as well, you haven’t eaten since noon yesterday.

>>711345
>You might as well, you haven’t eaten since noon yesterday.

File: Wardroom.jpg (46 KB, 640x427)

46 KB JPG

“Sure,” you reply. “I’ll be down in like five minutes.” You press the button again to turn the intercom off, then get up and get a fresh set of clothes out from the drawers under your bunk. You throw on a simple t-shirt and black pants, then you pull your boots on and throw your old, leather pilot jacket on. You decide to hide your service pistol and holster under the coffee table for now.

You take a quick peek into the bridge to see the auto-pilot engaged, with an ETA of nine hours. You wonder to yourself if there will be anything interesting to do on Mars while you unload your cargo.

The wardroom is a little ways forward of the bridge, on the deck below it. You have to make your way through the old combat information center, which is pretty much useless anymore, the Bad Habit isn’t going to be doing any fleet maneuvers any time soon. Most of the old, Plexiglas screens are covered with dust from years of disuse. You make your way through the bulkhead and up a few steps and find yourself in the wardroom.

It is relatively small, with a long bench and a few tables in front of it, with chairs opposite the bench. You see your crew occupying the bench portion. They seem to be getting along well enough: Corrigan is talking to Virgo, seemingly fascinated by the workings of the Magus Council, and Tom is reading the ship’s user manual, occasionally taking a bite of his mostly-eaten breakfast, or sipping some coffee. Cynthia waves at you through the serving window in the forward bulkhead of the wardroom.

“I’ve almost got yours done, sir,” she says with a smile. “Go ahead and have a seat, I’ll bring your plate out, then I’ll make some for myself and join you.”

>Sit next to a crew member (who?)
>Sit across from a crew member (who?)
>Sit by yourself.

>>711691
>Sit across from a crew member (who?)
Cynthia

>>711691
>>Sit across from a crew member (who?)
Cynthia.

File: 1462774015194.jpg (22 KB, 315x219)

22 KB JPG

>>711726
>>711736
She ain't even done making the food yet, guys.

I was going to have her sit near you no matter who you chose, since you'd have an empty space either across from you or next to you depending on the option you choose.

>>711755
tom then

>>711771
Sure this.

>>711771
>>711772
Next to or across from him? I know it seems like I'm getting awful specific here, but I just want to be sure I write what you have in mind.

>>711791
next to I guess? He's likely hung over so not seeing his face would probably be fore the best.

>>711791
Across

>>711791
Sure, this >>711816
When we are on mars should scrap the CIC and install a ping pong table

You plant yourself in the seat across from Tom, resting your elbows on the table top. The chair is bolted to the floor, and appears to be almost identical to the ones the Navy still uses. In fact, most of the wardroom looks a little bit newer than the rest of the ship. Must’ve been refurbished right before they decommissioned it.

“Captain,” he says with a small salute. He then goes back to burying his nose in the book, muttering technical specifications to himself. “Sir,” he speaks up. “Check this out.” He shows you the book, pointing to a photo of the top of the ship, right behind the bridge. The version in the book is a little bit different, as it has a rear-facing defense turret protecting the aft end of the ship. “I think we might be able to secure one of those on New Albany. They have an old ship boneyard there.”

“Interesting,” you say. A defense turret would be incredibly useful. “Also, what are your thoughts on the CIC just aft of here?” Tom looks up for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he takes a sip of coffee.

“Well,” he says as he sits the cup down. “We’re obviously not a warship anymore, so I don’t see much use for it. But I would talk with our weapons officer before ditching it entirely. There may be some useful fire control systems in there we can move to the bridge.” He points to Corrigan with his thumb.

“Breakfast is ready,” you hear Cynthia’s voice as she walks out with two plates in hand. She sits one down in front of you, and sits in the chair next to yours.

“Thanks,” you reply, picking up your fork. It’s an omelet, nothing fancy, but it is filling. You quickly tear into it, and within the next five minutes, the omelet is no more.

“I also made some coffee, if you want some,” Cynthia says as you finish eating. She gestures a little bit further down the table to a metal coffee pot. “Could you please pass that down here, Mr. Virgo?” Virgo, looking incredibly bored from talking about the Magus Council for who knows how long, happily reaches over and passes the pot along the table to where you and Cynthia sit. She pours herself and you a cup.

“Thanks again,” you say simply, downing the small cup in a single go.

>Talk to Cynthia some more (about what?)
>Mention the CIC to Corrigan
>Talk to another crew member (who, and about what?)

>>712041
>Mention the CIC to Corrigan

>>712041
>>Mention the CIC to Corrigan

>>712041
>>Mention the CIC to Corrigan

>>712141
This

And OP i fucking love your storytelling! Hope that we will read a lot more from you

File: Thoughtful.png (386 KB, 2703x2000)

386 KB PNG

“Corrigan?” You look over to your weapons officer, who immediately looks at you.

“Yes, captain?” She averts her eyes for a moment, making you think back to that weirdness with the luggage.

“Have you had a look at the CIC yet?” You point aft to the room’s location. “I was thinking about maybe reconfiguring it since we’re not a warship anymore.” You pour some more coffee into your empty cup, filling it.

She puts a hand to her chin thoughtfully. “I have briefly looked at the combat center,” she says. “I am not sure about this ship, but Imperial vessels have their weapons controls routed through their CIC. I would have to check the wiring before I can make a definite decision.” She raises an eyebrow at you “Though I did take stock of this ship’s weapons. We are more capable than I first thought.”

“Thanks for telling me what you know,” you reply. She nods at you with a blank expression.

“If you will excuse me,” she interrupts, standing up. “I will go to the CIC and check those things out now.” She turns to walk out of the wardroom briskly.

>Walk after her. She’s been acting strange lately and you want to know why.
>Stay in the wardroom and finish your coffee.
>Talk with your crew (who, and about what?)
You guys can talk with multiple crew at once if they are both present.

>>712441
Thanks! Glad you like it!

>>712516
>>Walk after her. She’s been acting strange lately and you want to know why.
Might as well cut the bullshit and resolve this before it boils over into some sort of crisis

>>712516
>>Walk after her. She’s been acting strange lately and you want to know why.

>>712533
Yeah, i would also say that. But let us chugg our last bit of coffe down and then go fast after her

>>712516
>Walk after her. She’s been acting strange lately and you want to know why.

You scoot to the side, leaving your chair. “I’ll be back in a minute,” you assure your crew. With that, you turn on your heels and follow Corrigan into the CIC. You look to see her immediately go over to a console and begin looking at it.

“Corrigan,” you say simply. She turns around with a startled jump. You walk a little bit closer to her. She doesn’t look at you.

“Yes, sir?” She speaks so quietly that you almost can’t hear her.

“You’ve been acting strange ever since I brought you aboard. What’s wrong?”

She looks away from you again, blushing. She fidgets where she stands before speaking. “Sir… It is about what you said to me when I arrived at the ship yesterday.” You raise an eyebrow at that, remembering how strangely she had acted regarding her luggage.

“You mean when I asked to help you with that suitcase?” Her cheeks get redder at the mention of the incident.

“Yes,” she replies. “It was merely a cultural difference, sir. Please do not worry about it.”

Against your better judgment, you decide to press on. “What do you mean cultural difference? What did I do wrong? I’d like to know so that I don’t do it again,” you say. You really don’t want your weapons officer to be acting this way, especially if you get into a fight and need her skills.

She fidgets more, muttering to herself for a moment. “Sir…” She looks toward the wall behind you. “Carrying a woman’s baggage… It is not nearly as casual a gesture for my people as it is for yours.” She finally makes eye contact with you. “It is a romantic gesture.”

>Write-in

>>713147

"Duly noted. Let me know if any boundaries are crossed due to cultural misunderstandings in the future."

>>713147
.......Wow. I mean, >>713190

>>713147
Lawl! This I suppose >>713190. Maybe mention well be sure to buy her a drink before doing it again.

Next meal times we'll have to ask her about other weird imperial courting conventions.

>>713190
>>713461
These.

File: You wouldn't believe all (...).jpg (114 KB, 702x394)

114 KB JPG

“Duly noted,” you reply. “Just tell me if I cross any boundaries like that in the future.” You run your hand through your hair, feeling a little bit embarrassed.

“I… Suppose I will do that, sir.” Corrigan replies, still blushing. “If that is what you wish.” She turns away from you. “May I be excused, sir?”

“Of course,” you say. With that, she leaves through the door to the wardroom. You walk back into the wardroom as well, only to see Corrigan walking off down the corridor toward her stateroom.

“What was that all about, sir?” You look over to see Tom sitting at the bench, arms crossed. The rest of your crew is looking at you as well. “More weird Imperial culture?”

“Something like that,” you reply simply, not wanting to get into details about it.

“So sir,” you hear Virgo speak up now. “I know I signed on so that we could have wonderful adventures across the cosmos,” the sarcasm in his voice makes you grin. “But I’d like to at least know where our current voyage is taking us. I’m sure I’m not the only one.”

You look over to Tom, who merely shrugs, deferring the mission brief to you.

>Brief the crew on your destination.
>Keep quiet about it.

>>713787
>>Brief the crew on your destination.
>keep in mind not all missions will get briefings like this, but I see no harm in these. Basically some supply runs for easy-ish money.

>>713787
>Brief the crew on your destination.

>>713787
>>Brief the crew on your destination.

>>713787
>Brief the crew on your destination.
Sorry I'm late. Looks like it's straight back into the hivemind.

“We’re headed to Mars first,” you announce. “Then we’ll be hopping over to Ganymede, and we’ll do an FTL burn to New Albany.” With that, you notice Virgo raise an eyebrow.

“Sir,” he says. “Are you sure our FTL drive is up to snuff for a jump like that?” He leans back in the booth. “This ship isn’t exactly the most mechanically sound vessel in the Federation.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Virgo,” Cynthia jumps in. She sounds a little bit offended. “I’ve checked out our propulsion systems as much as possible since we took off. Our sublight drive actually has more wear than our FTL drive.” She crosses her arms. “I think this ship was mostly used for short-range patrols. The FTL is practically new.”

Virgo nods slightly. “Very well then. That’s good news.” He looks back at you. “I guess we should—!” The sound of a klaxon rings over the ship’s PA system.

“What the hell is that?” You look over to Tom, who is now standing.

“Collision course alarm,” he says in a hard, professional tone. “Something’s been detected on RADAR, and it’s on a collision course with us.”

Shit.

>”All hands to stations!”
>”Tom, get to the bridge and try to hail whoever it is.”
>”Is it pirates?”

>>714377
>>”All hands to stations!”

>>714377
>>”All hands to stations!”
>”Is it pirates?”

File: 1473446549751.jpg (17 KB, 506x437)

17 KB JPG

>>714377
>”All hands to stations!”

>>714377
> App hands to stations
I think this thread just went into auto sage

File: Spoiler Image (82 KB, 800x450)

82 KB JPG

“Shit,” you exclaim. “All hands to stations.” You look over to Virgo as your other crew move aft to their stations. “Get Corrigan and tell her to get to the bridge, ASAP. I need my weapons officer right now.”

“Yes sir,” he says plainly before turning and moving toward the staterooms. You then turn on your heels and follow Tom aft through the CIC.

“Tom,” you get his attention as you catch up to him. “What are we looking at here, pirates?” He looks at you, then shakes his head.

“Not likely, sir.” He gestures for you to go up the stairs first. You begin the climb with him right behind you. “The territory between Earth and Mars is some of the safest in the cosmos. Could be an asteroid, maybe a Federal patrol looking for illegal smugglers.” The two of you enter the bridge, Corrigan is right behind you now. “I mean, I suppose it could be pirates, but the likelihood is near zero.” He sits in the pilot’s chair as Corrigan goes to her station and you gently seat yourself in the command chair.

“It’s a pretty big RADAR signature,” he continues. “Oh fuck…” You are about to ask him what’s wrong, but you see the source of his exclamation loom into view above the Bad Habit. A Federal Navy Battlecruiser.

There is a buzzing sound as your ship-to ship radio picks up an incoming call. “Sir,” Tom says. “They’re trying to hail us.”

“I know that,” you reply. You reluctantly accept the call.

“Independent Mercantile Vessel, designation Bad Habit. This is the FNV Geomancer. You are ordered to cut power to your sublight engines and prepare to be boarded for random inspection.” There is a small crackle of interference over the radio. “You have ten minutes to comply.”

>”Cynthia, cut the engines and prep the airlocks for docking. We have guests.” (comply)

>”Tell your captain that we haven’t done anything wrong” (don’t comply)

>”Tom, what would you recommend doing?”

>>714686
Yeah. It's been in autosage for a bit. I just felt like running anyway because I have fun running. Questers are seeing my updates anyway, or so it would seem.

>>714695
>>”Cynthia, cut the engines and prep the airlocks for docking. We have guests.” (comply)

>>714695
>>”Tom, what would you recommend doing?”

>>714695
>”Tom, what would you recommend doing?”

>>714695
"Cynthia, cut the engines and prep the airlocks for docking. We have guests." (comply)

>>714695
>”Cynthia, cut the engines and prep the airlocks for docking. We have guests.” (comply)

>>714695
> comply
Hopefully they aren't bullys

>>714909
>>714695

Probably figured out we're on our first run, so probably an "initiation" into how things are run. Possibly corrupt, possibly just to establish who's in charge in this area.

That or they recognized the new owner and it's a buddy from the service about to fuck with us because reasons.

File: Federal Marines.jpg (136 KB, 1272x715)

136 KB JPG

“Let’s go meet them,” you say with no joy whatsoever. Your crew follow you down to the hallway that the rear airlock opens into. The air is thick enough to be cut with a knife as you wait for the airlock door to open.

Then, with a deafening groan, the door parts, revealing twelve Federal Marines in fleet gray armor, led by a sergeant with red stripes adorning his armor. Their faces are obscured by helmets.

You and your crew stand dead still in front of the marines, who all stand at attention, waiting for their sergeant to speak. He looks at you, walking slowly toward you until he is mere feet away.

“So you’re THE Allen Starwind,” you immediately realize the sergeant is a woman by her voice. She puts out a hand for you to shake. “It’s something of an honor, sir. Your record from the War is worth appreciation.”

>Shake her hand without speaking.
>”What is this all about?” (don’t shake her hand)
>Don’t shake her hand and don’t speak.
>”I was just doing what I had to.” (shake her hand)
>”Thanks, sergeant.” (shake her hand)

>>715045
>”Thanks, sergeant.” (shake her hand)
Special mission time?

>>715045
> Thank sergeant
nb4 surprise handcuffing "haha, I have you now"

>>715045

>"thanks, sergeant." (shake her hand)

>>715045
>>”Thanks, sergeant.” (shake her hand)

File: Sergeant.jpg (54 KB, 492x604)

54 KB JPG

You immediately reach out and shake her hand. “Thanks, Sergeant. It’s always nice to be appreciated.” You begin to wonder if maybe you shouldn’t put your hand out in the first place, however, as she nearly rips your arm out of its socket.

“This is the coolest thing ever!” You’d never seen someone this enthusiastic to meet you. “You won three Combat Action medals! That’s like, unheard of! Not to mention the Pilot Gallantry Medal… Oh, and the Close Support Ribbon- with Gold Clasps!”

She immediately lets go of your hand, which keeps swinging for a second due to the kinetic energy, lifting her helmet’s visor. She’s certainly not hard on the eyes, especially for a Marine Sergeant. You notice one of the marines in the back start to chuckle, only to be elbowed by the man next to him.

“M-my name’s Sergeant Sarah Hendricks, at your service!” She immediately snaps to a salute, which you return out of instinct more than anything. “I was going to join the pilot academy, but my legs were too long, so they put me in the Marines.” You’re honestly surprised that someone would admit that, you’d originally tried out for the Marines but failed out of training due to an injury. Naval Pilot School was your back-up plan.

Sergeant Hendricks immediately returns to her senses however, and forces a stern expression onto her face. “My men have been ordered to search your ship to ensure that it complies with Federal Transit Regulations.” She nods, seemingly to nobody, as she’s staring straight ahead, and is at least a head shorter than you. “I have also been ordered to take you aboard the Geomancer to meet with an official from the Federal Navy.” She looks up to you with a smile.

>”Lead the way…”
>”Why are you searching my ship?”
>”I’m not leaving.”

>>715223
>”Lead the way…”
and
>”Why are you searching my ship?”

kinda glad we didn't pick that sketchy long box

>>715223
>>”Lead the way…”
>>”Why are you searching my ship?”

Hello hungry wolf

>>715223

>”Lead the way…”
>”Why are you searching my ship?”

>>715223
>”Lead the way…”
>”Why are you searching my ship?”
Did she order herself to take us on the ship to join her for dinner?

File: Grand Admiral.jpg (32 KB, 728x546)

32 KB JPG

“Lead the way…” You sigh and gesture to the airlock. Sergeant Hendricks practically jumps in place as she guides you through the tunnel leading to the Geomancer.

It is a relatively long walk from one airlock to the other, so you decide to start conversation on a point you want to talk about before she can get a chance to talk your ear off about your Navy days.

“So, Sergeant Hendricks…” You look over at her to see that she’s removed her helmet, revealing more hair than you’d expect to find in there.

“You can call me Sarah,” she blurts out. “I mean, if you want to, sir.”

“Fair enough,” you say. “So Sarah, why are your men searching MY ship? There are plenty of others in this sector.” She looks at you, then off into the distance with a raised eyebrow.

“Not sure actually,” she replies. “The order came straight from the bridge. You’d have to ask the person who requested to meet with you.”

“And who is that?” You raise an eyebrow at her, giving your best imitation of your own father when he was trying to get the truth out of you.

She raises her hands defensively, blushing a little. “I don’t know. Honest. They just said,” and then she changes her voice to mock whichever officer sent the order along. “Bring Captain Starwind to the bridge, at the double!”

The two of you arrive quickly at the Geomancer’s airlock, where she then guides you to the bridge, which is up two flights of wide stairs. She takes you to a man in dress whites who has his back turned to you.

“Here is Captain Starwind, sir!” She snaps to a salute. The man turns to face you.

“Very well, Sergeant,” you instantly know that this is who she was imitating earlier. “Take him to the Maneuver Office.”

With that, the two of you turn around and go up another flight of stairs at the rear of the bridge, where you arrive at a large set of double doors. She opens the doors and the two of you walk in together. There is a large desk, with a high-backed swivel chair turned to face away from you. “I’ve brought you Allen Starwind,” Sarah says loudly.

“Very good, Sergeant.” A voice that you recognize but can’t place booms from the other side of the chair. “You are dismissed.”

“But—!”

“You. Are. Dismissed. Sergeant.” The voice doesn’t raise, but the tone of it is enough to make you feel like an insect. She meekly turns around and leaves the room, closing the doors behind her.

“Good morning,” the voice says again. “Captain Starwind.” You swear you’ve heard the voice somewhere, on the television perhaps? Maybe he’s a Fleet spokesperson?

Then the chair swivels to face you and you see his face, and instantly you recognize him. His face has been plastered on recruitment posters, magazines, he’s conducted military rallies, spoken to the troops en-masse…

You stand across the desk from Grand Admiral Isaac Leander. The most powerful individual in the Federation.

File: Later.jpg (24 KB, 1174x880)

24 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg6gSOe7FXE

And that's it for thread 1! Thanks so much for playing, I really appreciate you guys.

Feel free to ask any questions about the world or characters, and I'll answer whatever I can without spoiling things.

We'll run again on Thursday at 6:00 PM EST. I hope to see all of you there!

>>715379
Thanks for running QM!

Question, is the Empire set up in some sort of clan system? Does a missile clan only do missile things, or does it mean they're just particularly good at it? Is the Empire feudalistic or is it just really stratified?

Also, how old are we?

>>715394
"clans" in the Empire are basically just families that have done a certain thing for so long, that it has become a part of their lineage. There are Missile Clans, who have come to prominence by manufacturing weapons, Officer Clans, who send all of their children off to be trained as officers, etc.

Then there's the only "official" clan, But I shouldn't talk about them yet.

Allen Starwind is 26. He left for Marine basic at 19 and became a pilot by 21. He's been out of the navy ever since the war ended, two years ago.

>>715369
I dindu nuffin, sah!

>>715379
Thanks for running!

>>715379
Thanks for running!
No thanks for running at the timeslot when I can't participate(

Now, a question: am I wrong or are the signs of a harem setup really there?
I wouldn't want this quest to turn into a waifuing title.

>>715700
That depends entirely on what you guys do. I've set things up to where there are definitely potential romance options, and you can either pursue them or not. Regardless, the MC's romantic entanglements aren't going to take center stage, unless plot-related stuff happens to the waifu and we have to act. This ain't a love story.

Also, it's gonna be damn near impossible to go full-harem and still achieve a good end. If anons choose to go down this route, there will be pain.

Fantastic quest Zap. Loved every second of it. Can't wait for.the next thread

Great thread! Love your way of writing OP

New thread is UP!
>>728998
>>728998